


To Lose a Body Without a Soul

by AustinWritez (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Hamilton Fanfic, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jamilton - Freeform, Jamilton ship, Please dont read this xD, this story sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AustinWritez
Summary: Thomas Jefferson finds that he is the only person that can see and speak to Hamilton after his death. Hamilton sticks around with Thomas as to not get lonesome, and the two become fairly close.Sorry I suck at summaries.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. Lonesome / POV: Jefferson

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the terrible writing but I hope you enjoy the story anyway? This is a gay love story between Hamilton and Jefferson, and I changed some things to fit the story. Eliza never forgave Hamilton for cheating on her and publishing it to the world until he died. This story will take place at the point of both Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton. Little heads up, there are swears and spoilers to the end of the musical 'Hamilton' in here. Read at your own risk.

I didn’t know what to think when Madison told me about Hamilton’s death.

I was feeling a little angry, surprisingly. I don’t know why I gave two shits, but I did. 

Madison looked at it as an opportunity to get further in office, to make differences in our country that Hamilton could no longer fight. 

I didn’t really listen to him as he gave his voice of reason, I was too busy thinking about his death. I highly disliked the man and all, disagreed with everything that came out of his mouth, but it was weird to think that we will never have an argument again. 

I only looked up when Madison told me that the funeral was to take place on Saturday, and as President and Vice President, he and I were to both attend his funeral. 

Saturday approached rather quickly, and before I knew it, we were in a carriage riding to the church where Hamilton’s funeral was to take place. 

Everyone I had seen associating with Hamilton in the past was there. Angelica, Eliza, Peggy, Lafayette, Hercules, even Aaron Burr was there. He had some audacity to come to Hamilton’s funeral, especially since he was the one who shot the man. 

After everyone settled down and we all listened to the Mortician’s introducing ideas, Madison and I both spoke on his behalf. I didn’t think much of my speech (or the situation at all, to be exact), as I was never really close with the man who had been shot that night. Actually, that was probably the understatement of the century. I didn’t hate the man, no matter how pissed I got with him, but he was definitely not on my Hey-You’re-Close-Enough-Aqcuantances-With-Me-Lets-Go-Get-A-Beer-Just-To-Kill-Time list. 

After that day, I heard people talking about Hamilton’s death countless times on the street, I almost got tired of hearing about it. 

For some reason after Hamilton's death, something felt different inside me. I changed for the worse. I became colder and refused to talk to certain people.

I would spend most of my days in solitude, even blocking my wife out of my world. Occasionally, we would go days on end without speaking. 

In the end, my wife decided to move out with our children to give them the most normal childhood as she possibly could, still being the President’s wife. And so, in 1805, it was just me, Madison, and some other people I never associated with living in the White House. 

Madison and I’s friendship never wavered, no matter what we went through congressionally. We rarely spoke to each other if it wasn’t about politics, and did our separate things otherwise. 

I think it’s safe to say I was lonely living in the White House, despite everything going on. I never really talked to anyone unless it was about politics, which in itself got boring in time.

I needed a break. I needed someone to talk to. My wish did indeed get granted eventually, giving me a partner in crime I never thought I’d talk to again. Mister…


	2. Lost Soul / POV: Hamilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas Jefferson finds a new partner-in-crime who he never thought he'd talk to again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to anyone that reads this. My writing sucks.

It gets very lonely in time, walking around, being a soul with no body to visualize said soul.

I’ll describe what I look like now if you wish. Although even if I do so, you won’t be able to see me if we ever pass each other. 

My body sustains the same shape as it had before I suffered my fate, I am still 5’7, I still look like a man, I still have the same clothes I was wearing when Burr shot me. Although every trait about me is defined in lines, there are no spaces in between. If you were to see me after death, you’d see the lines defining my traits but nothing else. Some may say it’s creepy, I think it’s cool, to be honest.

I can go anywhere now and nobody will see me. People walk through me countless times a day, and I will never get used to the shivers I am unable to suppress every time a new body passes through me. Despite this fact, I am always out in New York City, roaming the streets, with no location in mind. 

I just plan to watch the evolution of our nation over the years, fulfilling an afterlife of solitude. 

I always knew deep inside myself that my confident and sometimes cocky attitude would get me in trouble eventually. Practically everyone I met reminded me of this fact, especially Aaron Burr, who, in the end, was the man behind the gun. 

I don’t blame Burr for shooting me. I mean, of course, I would have rather stayed alive with my children. But in my perspective, what was there to live for anymore? I had no occupation, the one whom I loved hated me, and I had no power in congressional debates anymore. Even for me, it was time to take a rest. Maybe that’s why I aimed at the sky. I had never any intentions to shoot Burr that day, and I felt off all morning. Maybe I knew that Death was knocking on my door. Maybe I knew that I would never see my children again. 

These thoughts polluted my head as I roamed the streets, walking straight through carriages and people, walking through the walls and exploring many different houses. 

After about two hours of this strenuous activity, I decided I was bored with New York City and let the wind carry me to Washington DC instead. I had never seen the White House up close and the thought never crossed my mind, but while openly thinking this afternoon I realized that I could now explore the White House without being bothered by others. 

I landed in front of the colossal white building and let out a low whistle. I had expected the house to be fancy, but this was not what I was expecting. 

How people live in this mansion without getting lost easily is beyond me. 

There was an unusual pep in my step as I walked toward the house. 

I walked through the front doors and James Madison immediately walked through me, muttering to himself while holding papers. I decided to follow him and marched behind him up the grand staircase, following his every step until I found a doorway that intrigued me. It was the most massive doorway I had seen so far in the building, and I step through the doors and into the massive office. 

Stepping around the office, I realized that this was the one and only Thomas Jefferson's desk. Feeling mischievous, I examined his desk and read through his business papers to see how he intended to improve our nation. 

I only looked up when I heard footsteps sounding through the hallway, coming for this office. I was obviously not concerned, as I was invisible to the naked eye. 

The doors swing open as I watched Thomas Jefferson enter the room and look around. 

“James? I heard footsteps, was there something you wanted to d-” His eyes pierce a hole right through me, and he lets out a shriek. 

“Hamilton, what the hell are you doing here?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments on how to improve and kudos are appreciated. Next chapter will (hopefully) be up by tomorrow. Tried to make this chapter longer. :P


	3. Confound / POV: Jefferson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton tries out a new trick on Jefferson. Madison starts to think that Jefferson is hallucinating and has worked himself too hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so school is starting soon so chapter updates won't be regular anymore (Not that anyone reads my stories anyways) my apologies on that. Hope you enjoy chapter 3. Btw, I am making a new story about two rivals, my characters Marquise Harley Laurent and Elias Fischer. Stay tuned.

“Hamilton, what the hell are you doing here?!” I screamed. 

I must be delirious or hallucinating, Hamilton died over a year ago in 1804.

I pull my hands up to my face and rub my eyes, and look up again. Hamilton is still there. He’s staring directly at me, almost looking as dumbfounded as I feel. 

White lines cover where his features would be, but there is no body there connecting everything. He must be a ghost. Even so, that doesn’t explain why he’s standing in my office, well over a year after his death. 

“You can see me?” He asks.  
I roll my eyes.  
“No, you idiot, I was just yelling that because I felt like it.”

Hamilton smirks and steps forward.  
“Well, I guess I won’t be leaving here anytime soon.” He croons.  
I groan and slap a hand to my face.

“You little bastard, haunting me even after your death!” I yell.

Hamilton moved up what would be his hand and tries to slap me, with his hand going through my head. An incomprehensible feeling comes over me, like someone had just poured a bucket of freezing water on my head.

“Don’t do that!” I yell.  
Hamilton smiles.  
“What, you mean this?” He makes the motion again and I flinch, jumping away from him.

Hamilton laughs. “I think I’ll be having some fun with this.”  
“Why the hell are you here?! Leave me alone!” 

Hamilton follows me around the office, laughing at my obvious suffering as he keeps waving his arm through me.

“Thomas, are you okay? I heard yelling in here.” James steps in and Hamilton stops, facing him.

“Hamilton is being a douchebag after his death! What the hell is wrong with this guy?!” I yell. James tilts his head and looks around the office.  
“Thomas, are you feeling alright? Hamilton has been dead for over a year.” 

Hamilton bursts out laughing as he dances around James, as if taunting me that he doesn’t believe me.  
“I swear!! Hamilton is a ghost! He’s haunting us!” I whisper-yell.

James sighs and takes my hand.  
“You’re taking the day off. You’ve obviously overworked yourself," he mutters.

He starts leading me out of the office and to my bedroom. I make small noises in protest.  
“I have so much work to do,” I whine.  
“Thomas, you sound like an eight year old. Just take the day off today and rest. You need it,” James tells me, giving me a slight push towards my room and closing the door behind me.

I sigh and sit down on my bed, slipping off my shirt.

“Woah, that’s something I didn’t need to see,” Hamilton retorts. I look over to see him standing there, looking completely normal, like he had never died.  
“Are you alive?!” I asked tentatively.  
“Yes, idiot. I magically came back to life and I’m still hanging out with a low-life like you,” Hamilton shoots back.

I groan and turn away from him.  
“What did you do?” I mumble.  
He puts a hand on my shoulder. My eyes widen and I roll away from him.  
“Don’t touch me!” I wail.

“Hm. It appears to work. Anyway, Jefferson, it’s called materializing. A.k.a being able to punch you.” Hamilton chuckles.

I groan rather loudly and dramatically. James walks back in with a glass of water and I gesture to where Hamilton sits on the bed.

“How do you not see him?! He’s right there!” I yell.  
James looks around, a look of confusion crossing his face.  
“You must be mistaking, Thomas. There’s nobody else in here except for you and me.” He replies, walking away.

“I’m not mistaking!” I yell to his turned back.  
“I’m not mistaking…” I whisper.


	4. Kept / POV: Hamilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton and Jefferson keep each other busy while conversing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not posting recently, school has been such a pain. I'll try to update more regularly.

“You just hate being wrong, don’t you?” I drawl.

Jefferson glares at me.

“I’m not wrong! That’s the point!” He shrieks.

“Keep your damn voice down before you have a seizure.” 

Jefferson groans and sits up. 

“Besides, you know I’m apparently wrong all the time, hence all of the cabinet meetings I have lost to you,” He mutters.  
I laugh.

“Oh right, how many times was I right against you again? Seventy-six?” I ask tauntingly.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

“I’m not even going to argue with you…”  
“You shouldn’t. Because your political opinions can suck my-”  
“Alright, alright! I get it, you bitch. Just leave me alone please.” 

I shrug and decided to explore the White House further, taunting Madison for a while and admiring the rest of the offices. Going back to Jefferson’s room, I got lost at least four times and it took me at least an hour to find my way back.

I went through the bedroom doors and materialized again, deciding to make myself comfortable on the floor. 

I sit down and stare out the window for a while until I hear Jefferson stir in the bed beside me.  
“Did you even leave…?” He mumbles.

“I did. I returned after two hours of freely exploring your magnificent house.” I respond, still looking out the window.

“Why are you freaking hanging out with me? Why don’t you hang out with people that actually like you?”

I sigh, annoyed.

“Because you’re the only person who can actually see me, smartass,” I reply. 

“Lucky me…” He responds.  
I wander around his office, knocking over anything I please, smirking to myself as I look over just to see Jefferson staring at me with the most hate-filled death glare.

“Got a problem?” I purr, sitting on the bed next to him.

The next time he speaks, his voice is empty, emotionally drained.

“Hamilton, riddle me this, how did my life go so downhill since you died?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, I know. I just needed something to keep this story alive while I drown in school work. When I have time, I will write the next chapter, which I promise will be longer. Kudos and comments appreciated.


	5. Quiet / POV: Jefferson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thunderstorm hits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, starting with a better uploading schedule. (I tried to make this chapter longer for you guys)

Hamilton stares at me with a dumbfounded look as I sit up in the bed. I stare at him back with a tired expression.

“I don’t… Know, Jefferson, I think you have to ask yourself that…” He mutters.

I look away from him then, looking anywhere but him, actually. 

“I hope you know I never hated you, Hamilton. You were a bitchy idiot who always wanted his way, but I didn’t despise you. Highly disliked, maybe…”  
“Likewise…” Was all he said.

I look back at the man, the man who was shot in 1804, the man who should be dead.

“Tell me about the duel,” I mutter quietly.

We spent a couple of hours then talking about the duel, his funeral, how he felt when he died. After a while, the conversation shifted to me, how it was like to be the President of the United States.

How my life has been since we had last talked. And, to be honest, I was enjoying myself. It was enjoyable to talk to someone, even Hamilton, about anything but politics. 

“So you and Madison don’t even talk that much anymore?” Hamilton asks, curious.  
“Not really… We-” I am interrupted by a loud crack of thunder.

I groan internally, not excited for another storm, and turn to Hamilton to see what he thought about it.  
The man was frozen.

He had a panicked look on his face, eyes full of fear.

“Hamilton?” I ask.

No answer.

“Alex…?” 

A small whimper escapes his lips and I realize it.

Alexander Hamilton, an arrogant loudmouth, is afraid of storms.

Under any other circumstances, I would have laughed at his stupidity. A small little thunderstorm? What’s there to be scared of? 

Any other time, with any other person, I would have found this utterly hilarious. But, looking at the smaller man, the usually confident, “nothing-can-get-under-my-skin”, looking at him like that, what is this feeling? Sympathy? Guilt? 

“Alex, are you okay?” I mumble after thirty seconds of silence.

And then I realize another thing. He’s been whispering to himself this whole time.

“D-Drowning… Wind… Thunder… Water… Dying… Drowning… Wind…-”  
“Alex!” I yell, and he jumps.

The man groans and covers his face in his hands, his whole body shaking.  
I slowly get up and sit next to him on the floor. He’s not just shaking, he’s… crying.

“Alex… It’s okay…” I whisper, putting an arm around him in an attempt to comfort him.

He leans into my touch and my eyes widen, a hint of a blush heats my face. Instinct tells me to pull away, but I don’t. He needs me.  
I reach over and wipe away the tears on his eyes with my thumb. 

“I-I’m sorry… I-I-I hate storms…” He whispers.

“Shhh… It’s okay, Alex. Just try to relax, you’re okay…” 

He laughs rather bitterly. 

“We on a first-name basis now?” He asks.  
“Do you want to be on a first-name basis?” 

He shrugs.

“Thomas.” He says, just to get the feel of it.

“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas.” He giggles. “I like it.” 

The blush becomes more visible on my face. How have I never noticed how adorable his laugh is…? 

“Did you say something…?” He asks.

Shit. I said that out loud.

“No, I didn’t say anything…” I mutter, my voice shaking the smallest bit.

“Okay,” He responds.

Another crack of thunder sounds in the distance and Hamilton buries his face in my chest, whimpering. I’m pretty sure I’m a human tomato now.  
I wrap my arms around him and hum a song softly to calm him down.

“Do you want to lie down…?” I ask.

He nods and I lift him up, setting him on the bed.  
He turns over and looked at me, pain and fear still set in his eyes.

“Can you lay with me…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated. :)


	6. Pain / POV: Jefferson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas tries to comfort Alexander as they decide their first or last name basis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter six is finally out, sorry for the crazy uploading schedule. Hopefully, the next chapter will be out soon. (It's short, sorry.)

I seriously was not expecting Alexander to ask for me to lay with him. At that point, I thought my heart was literally going to explode out of my chest. 

Which didn’t make sense, I’ve flirted with a lot of people and a lot of people have flirted with me and I haven’t been affected. But somehow, Alex is different. Maybe because I’ve known him for so long…

So I hesitated. My first instinct was to just decline and tell him that I would be in my office if he really needed me, but then he spoke again, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I-I-I get if you say no… But… I-I just don’t want to be alone…”

He turned away from me and buried his face in my pillow, and right then he just looked so fragile, so broken, and I know I couldn’t leave him like that. 

I walked slowly to the other side of the bed and lay down beside him, pulling him closer to me and wrapping my arms around him.

I thanked the Gods that he could not see my face right then, it was so red.

“When all of this is over, we never speak of this again…”

“Y-Yeah…” 

I was embarrassed. That was it. Just embarrassed of the situation I was in with my sworn enemy.

“Try to sleep, Alexander… Rest will relax your mind. I won’t leave,” I say to him, trying to calm him a little.

“Okay…”

I feel his body relax as he dozes off and I hug him a little tighter. 

If he needs me, I won’t leave. End of discussion. 

For a fraction of a time, I let my mind forget about what others would think.   
I let my mind forget about what James would think.   
I let my mind focus on Alexander alone, the man next to me. 

I’ll have to ask him why he’s so afraid of storms later, it’s a little peculiar. 

But for now, I’ll just focus on making Alexander feel safe. I hope he won’t mind if I just close my eyes for a little while…

When I open my eyes again, the storm has died down and the sun has set, but most importantly, Alexander is still asleep in my arms. 

I smile softly as I look at the man, the man who shouldn’t be here, but the man who gave me someone to talk to. 

I guess it wouldn’t be that bad if he were to stick around for awhile...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Yayyy. First chapter complete. Next chapter will be up by tomorrow.  
> (Sorry for the short chapter. I'll try to make them longer.)


End file.
